Dictator
by thehivequeen
Summary: He betrayed them all then took over the world. Earth's most loved hero turned evil, and no one could stop him. Now he rules with a smile and an iron fist, and few attempt or even want to stand against him. But his daughter will.
1. Chapter 1

I am so tired of bodyguards, tired of my father, tired of school. Basically, I am just _so bored _with my life, with everything.

Yes, I understand that being the daughter of the man that all but runs the world comes with its hazards. And I understand that he feels the need to schedule my every move, and assign _ten billion freaking bodyguards_ to watch every one of those moves. He tells me that he's just trying to protect me, that anyone on the street, anyone in my school, just _anyone _could try to kill me to get to my father. But I know that he is lying, that he doesn't care what happens to me at all.

I've tried everything to relieve the boredom from online roleplaying chat rooms to chess club to tennis, but none of it works. The only thing that has ever made me feel alive was when my father let me take martial arts classes; judo, karate, tae kwon do, anything I could think of. That kept me going from elementary school through 11th grade. Then, I sorta accidentally broke my ex-boyfriends arm, and needless to say, one PR nightmare later, I was no longer allowed to take any type of self- defense class.

My original argument to convince my father to let me take the classes was that it would let me defend myself if anyone ever got past the myriad of bodyguards that followed me around. It took a little convincing, but he finally caved and hired a bunch of personal trainers to teach me to fight. I tried to use that argument on him again after the ex- boyfriend debacle, but it didn't work. He told me that if I was skilled enough to break the arm of a guy twice my size (he was closer to three times my size, I'll have you know), then I didn't really need to take lessons anymore. One of the many pitfalls to having a politician father is that he often wins arguments, and wins them well.

So, I've been making my way through senior year with nothing but schoolwork to distract me from the boredom. I try not to complain, most people would just scoff and tell me off for being bored if I did say anything about how lame my life really is. They would say "oh, you're so rich, so privileged, you have no right to be bored when you have enough money to do anything you want. You are lucky, look at the rest of the world and tell me that you are not lucky." I hate those people. I know how it sounds, but it's actually much harder to be me than you would think.

I turn to the bodyguard currently on duty in my room.

"Hey, would you mind standing outside for a while? I really need some alone time. To do girl stuff, you know?" I gesture to a pile of shopping bags on my bed. "I want to try on my new outfits, and to do that, I need to change my clothes…" I trail off, hoping he is smart enough to catch my meaning. I wasn't exactly subtle, but some of my bodyguards aren't the brightest. He nods stoically, and leaves the room, keeping the door open a crack.

I walk over to my awesome stereo and turn on Uprising by Muse. I love this song, it gives voice to the feelings that I've had all my life, feelings that are really starting to overflow. _They will not force us. They will stop degrading us. They will not control us. _My father controls everything-controls me- and all I want is to have my own uprising. I want to be free of his greed and his lust for power. No matter what he gets, he always wants more, more, _more_. First, he became President of the United States, then he _oh- so- politely _took over South America, Canada, and the rest of the continents in the Western Hemisphere. He made it seem like he was doing them a favor, that he was freeing them from dictators, or welcoming them into a more lucrative way of life. They all cheered him on: Canadians, Mexicans, Columbians, everyone. They believed his lies, and that cost them everything. When he was done on this side of the planet, he moved on to Europe, Asia, Russia, everywhere. He controls most of the world- rules it with an iron fist and a smile.

The rebel camps formed when my father started looking east, across the ocean. His newly formed "United Continents Alliance" was appealing to many countries across the world, and many gave as little resistance as South America and Canada had. But there were some who saw through the façade, and tried to stop him from conquering everything.

The rebels are small patches, little areas colored in red on my father's huge map of the world displayed on a holographic screen behind his desk. All of the areas he has conquered are in blue, and the small, ever shrinking patches of red are the places where people just refused to give up, where they still fight against my father.

My father does practically nothing to stop the rebels, because they are so weak in his eyes that they are just not worth it. He could fly to those places and destroy the rebel camps as easily as I might crush an ant under my shoe. But he doesn't, he leaves the rebels be and watches as they starve or give up due to lack of resources.

The Justice League tried to stop him when he first revealed his true nature, but it was no use, my father was too powerful, and they were still reeling from his betrayal. He knew all their weaknesses, their secret identities, knew who their family and friends were. There was no way anyone could have seen his betrayal coming, just no way.

The rebels say he cracked, that it all just got to him; the power, the responsibility, the loss. Their suspicions were confirmed when they did some digging into his background, made possible by the fact that he had revealed his identity when he announced his candidacy for President. They read his records, and learned that he decided to run for president soon after his wife and child- my sister- had been killed by one of his enemies. All of the rest of the world just try to believe that he is still good, and that everything he does is in their best interest.

So that's me, daughter of the most powerful, most evil person in the world. My life is like the ultimate gilded cage. From the outside, I appear to have it all: power, money, and fame. But from the inside, I am trapped, forced to watch as my father inflicts horror and poverty upon the world, forced to sit around and pretend that I am happy. So yes, I get bored, and I feel guilty about being bored, but I don't know how I can change my situation.

Peeking out through the crack to make sure the bodyguard isn't looking into the room; I start a series of exercises to the beat of the music. When I'm through with that, I start fighting imaginary opponents, keeping my body limber and all of my martial arts skills fresh in my muscle memory. As I practice, I think about how he has the world under his spell, how most of them still love him. They are either too dumb or just plain unwilling to look past his lies and see the truth.

Sometimes I don't understand my father's obsession with his public image. Why does it matter so much to him that everyone loves him, that they think he is trying to help them. I know that's why he assigns so many bodyguards to watch me. He wants the world to see that he's a caring father, that we are a happy family. I go along with his façade of a happy family, because I know that if I don't, some assassin will slip past my guards and kill me in my sleep.

He doesn't love me, never has. I remind him to much of _her, _of my mother. And I didn't inherit any of his abilities- I took after my mother that way too. I'm just a means to an end, a way to keep the public in his thrall. And except for the rebels, the public does love him. They fall for his flowery words, for the flimsy excuses he gives for the disrepair the world has fallen into, for his good looks and easy smile.

They fall for it, because they don't want to believe that he has changed, that he is most definitely not the man he used to be. Everyone, including my father, _especially my father_, wants to believe that he is still their beloved hero.

They want to believe that he is still Superman.

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_Hope you guys like the first chapter! This was sort of an explanation and background chapter, they won't all be like this __ Please, please, please review, I want to hear any feedback, positive or negative. I am happy to hear any constructive criticism, and I will try to incorporate any suggestions that are honestly meant to make my story better _

_Thanks!_

_P.S. Disclaimer: I do not own superman, the justice league, or any other DC characters. _


	2. Chapter 2

_Before I start, I just wanted to thank FicLover4Ever, anon, and Thorson for both being my first reviewers and for giving me some interesting ideas about the rest of the story! Your comments were greatly appreciated! Also, I'm really sorry it took me so long to publish the next chapter, I have been busy vacationing… lame excuse, I know. Well, here it is at last, enjoy!_

Hearing a light knocking on my door, I walk over and open it. It is the bodyguard that I sent out earlier.

"Miss, you have to be ready to go to the press conference in an hour." He rumbles; his face remaining stoic as ever.

"Thank you." I reply. "Now, before I go and get ready, could you remind me what your name is?" A slight smile appears on his face, and his tall, broad form relaxes a little. I always enjoy talking to my bodyguards- it makes them seem more human. And as much as I hate all the security, I need a little more real human contact in my life. Other than school, I don't really get a chance to meet people my age, and most of the people at my school are too afraid of my bodyguards to talk to me.

"It's Jenkins." He replies. "Agent Sam Jenkins."

"All right, Sammy, I will meet you right here in one hour. Don't be late." I adopt a horrible, fake southern accent. "And don't forget to be sneaky- if my father caught us trying to run away together, we'd be starin' down the wrong end of his laser eyes." Agent Jenkins gives me a stern look, but I see the twinkle of humor in his eyes. It seems I will have a friend in him, even if neither of us ever admits it out loud.

I go back into my room, closing the door as far as I know Agent Jenkins will allow me to. After a quick shower, I put on some makeup, fix my long brown hair so the natural curls aren't frizzy and tangled, then slip on a pale blue dress with yellow trim. Blue, red, yellow: Superman's colors. He always has me wear clothes in these colors when we do press conferences, to remind the public of who he used to be- like they'd ever forget.

I open the door and step out into the hallway. Agent Jenkins is there, along with the rest of my security detail. I nod to them, and they surround me as we walk down the hallway on our way to the front of the house. When my father was President of the U.S. we lived in this house- the White House- and when he started conquering other countries he made it his base of operations. We have homes all over the world, but he likes to give speeches in front of the building that now symbolizes the beginning of his rise to power.

My bodyguards and I meet up with my father behind the door that leads to the front of the building. He is wearing a suit that shows off his muscled physique, a tie that matches my dress, and a small flag pin on his lapel. It is the flag of the U.C.A: a blue background with the iconic red and yellow 'S' shield that he used to wear proudly on his chest. It is just another reminder to the people about who is in charge.

He looks me up and down and nods in approval. When I was younger, I would purposefully ruin my appearance before a conference; mess up my hair, get mud on my dress, wear the wrong colors on "accident," but it never worked. He would just super-speed away and grab a new dress or a stylist to fix my hair. Now, I just come as I know he wants me to- it's faster that way.

We step outside, bodyguards fanning out behind us, and are met with camera flashes and shouted questions. My father steps up to a podium bristling with microphones, and opens his mouth to speak.

"I am glad to announce that another rebel group has fallen. The rebel groups are a cancer upon our glorious society, and now one of these tumors has been removed." He did not mention the fact that he had done nothing to facilitate the removal of this particular "tumor," they had run out of supplies and had all either surrendered or died. "Soon, the U.C.A. will be perfect, as it should be." I tuned him out after that; his speeches were all so similar that I don't need to hear them to know what he was saying.

I stood there, my brightest smile pasted on my face, trying not to scream. I hated listening to his speeches because I knew that every word that came out of his mouth was a lie. He finished his speech, and moved to stand next to me so the press could take some pictures. Honestly, so many of these pictures of us looking like a family are out there, I don't know why the public would want to see any more of them. I suppressed a shudder as he put his arm around me, and really hoped the photographers had not gotten a picture of me while my smile was dimmed. I really don't need my father to be mad at me-I've been in his good graces for so long that I can't stand the thought of being in trouble. I've gotten used to being allowed to go to school every day and I don't think I could stand being forced to stay at home alone instead of going. School is the one place where I can interact with people, and they have just started to be more at ease around my guards. I'm pretty sure some of them might actually talk to me soon.

After the conference is over, my father leaves without a single word to me, much to my relief. I walk down the hall back to my room, and flash a quick smile at Agent Jenkins. He doesn't return the smile, if anything, he looks grimmer than he normally does. I shake it off, he's probably just down because of my father's speech.

A hand clamps over my mouth, muffling my screams. It's the middle of the night, and someone is trying to kidnap me. I struggle as hard as I can, but this guy is more than twice my weight, and he has the advantage of surprise.

"Shhh, Shhh, it's just me, Agent Jenkins." The familiar deep voice whispers in my ear. I immediately relax. He takes his hand cautiously away from my mouth.

"What is going on?" I whisper furiously; I am so not in the mood for this. "This had better not be a drill, I have school tomorrow and I don't want to fall asleep in the middle of class because I was woken up for yet another pointless drill."

"No, miss, the house is under attack by rebels, it is possible that some of them have gotten inside. I need to take you outside, where a car is waiting to take you someplace safe."

"My father is here, which means I am already someplace safe." I reply, because while I might doubt his morals, I don't doubt that he can stand his ground against a few painfully human rebels.

"Your father was called away on urgent business, something highly classified. I do not have enough clearance to know what that business is. Needless to say, your home is not very well fortified against attacks; no good provisions were made in the case of an attack when your father was not here. So you need to go, protecting you is my highest priority." I see a glimpse of something (guilt?) in his eyes, but it is gone in a flash, leaving me sure that I imagined it.

"Let me grab some stuff really quickly." I say, and before he can answer, I'm out of bed. I grab a small suitcase that I keep under the bed always packed with the bare necessities, then grab my phone, some homework, and a book and shove them into the suitcase. Agent Jenkins hustles me down the hallways to a back door that leads to a private parking lot.

A nondescript black van is waiting for us outside. Something deep in my guts twinges, and I turn around, trying to keep my face calm. I don't know why, but my instincts are screaming at me not to get in the van.

"I- I forgot, um, my toothbrush. I'll just grab it and come right back." I say, moving back towards the house. Agent Jenkins blocks me. "Agent Jenkins- Sammy, please. It's my favorite toothbrush." I'm practically begging now.

"I'm sorry." He says, a genuinely regretful look on his big face. "You arent anything like they said you would be. But this is for the greater good." Panic floods into me as hands come around me from behind- someone from in the van must have snuck up behind me. A large hand sticks a cloth in my face, and I'm forced to breathe in the chemical smell of chloroform. They force me into the van as my body grows heavy, and the last thing I see is the van door slamming shut before my world goes dark.

_Hope you liked the second chapter! Thanks for reading! XO!_


	3. Chapter 3

_You know, I realized that I still haven't written anything about what Superman's daughter's name is! Well, it's Samantha Kent! Anyone have any middle name ideas? Feel free to give them in your review (hint, hint). ;)_

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Slowly, fuzzily, the world comes into focus, and I look around blearily. I'm laid out on a thin cot, with one ankle chained to the bed, which in turn is bolted into the floor. The room is bare, the epitome of all the prison cells I have ever seen in the movies. Dingy walls, no window, a flap on the bottom of the door just big enough for a food tray to be pushed through. Yeah, I've really got it all, these guys should win kidnapper of the year awards.

I stand up slowly, lucidity returning to me bit by bit, and test out how far the chain on my ankle allows me to go. I have free reign of the room, except for a foot or two near the door, where the chain grows taught and prevents me from going any further. I spend a few minutes of uselessly panicking, tugging as hard as I can against the chain, but I only succeed in rubbing my ankle raw.

I am more scared than I have been in my entire life, but I can't help but feel that I sort of deserve this. I mean, this is what I get for wanting more adventure in my life. But even more than that: I feel like this is punishment for all the times I just stood by and smiled while my father ruined the world. I push the self- loathing aside and try to focus; why did these people kidnap me?

The most obvious answer is to somehow get to my father; maybe they plan on ransoming me. They probably fell for the perfect family façade and thought that kidnapping me would affect my father. I, of course, am just about the only person in the world who knows just how little I actually mean to my father.

The thing is, this seems too big to be a simple kidnap- and- ransom case; the kidnappers are so organized. They have obviously had Agent Jenkins placed as a double agent for a long time. He only joined the ranks of my guard recently, but he was probably a member of my father's staff for a long time before that. I feel like these people wouldn't have gone to this much trouble for money, they probably have some political goal in mind. Maybe they are rebels.

This last idea actually gives me hope. If I was kidnapped by a rebel group, then maybe I can actually make a difference against my father. If they are looking for information, well, I will happily give it to them.

I don't know how long I'm there before someone finally comes, it's could be minutes, or hours, time has no real meaning in this cell. _And I thought I knew boredom before. _ At least then, it wasn't boredom mixed with terror and just the tiniest hint of hope.

But eventually, they come: Agent Jenkins another burly guy who looks a lot like him- his brother, maybe, and a boy that only looks a few years older than me. He is tall, blonde, and very good looking, but I feel this twinge in my gut the moment he walks in. Because he might be handsome, but his good looks are ruined by the cruelty I see in his dark brown eyes.

I suppress a shudder as his eyes rake over me, and I suddenly remember that I'm still wearing my pajamas- a tank top and a pair of cotton shorts. His features twist into an ugly smirk, but I just glare at him.

"Well, it seems you are just as pretty in real life as you are in camera." He says in a husky voice that would be sexy if I wasn't so creeped out by him. When I don't respond, he just shrugs and keeps talking. "I'm sure you have guessed by now that we brought you here because of your father. We want to take him down, and we need your help to do it. The whole world found out what his one and only weakness is when he banned the stuff. Unfortunately for us, he was very, very good at finding every last pebble of kryptonite on the surface of this earth. So we need you to tell us where he put it all, and it will save us all a lot of trouble and pain if you just tell us where it is now. So?" I just glare at him in disgust, hiding my fear as well as I can.

He just narrows his eyes, seemingly unimpressed by all the hate daggers I am sending his way. He turns to Jenkins and murmurs something in his ear, something that makes the big man's eyes widen almost imperceptibly. My heart sinks, and my stomach is one big, writhing ball of fear. Then, he leaves the room, taking the second man with him, and leaving Jenkins and me alone.

He rushes over to where I'm sitting on the edge of the cot the second the door is fully closed.

"Samantha, are… are you alright?" He asks me, stoic mask sliding right off his face to be replaced by a concerned look.

"Never better." I spit, furious with him. "No thanks to you." His face falls, and he looks stricken.

"I really am sorry. It's just, I really believe in what we- the rebellion- is doing. Your father is ruining the world and he needs to be stopped. I volunteered for this job with ideas about who you were, and I was wrong. I'm so, so sorry that I have to put you through this."

I look at him with skepticism. "If men like that one are in the rebellion, how can you possibly want to be part of it. He barely seems better than my father."

"No. He's, well, he's usually not like that. He's the leader's son, his second in command. He just, doesn't know you, he still believes what we see on TV. Honestly, he's one of the best men I've ever known."

"Oh, so you don't believe everything you see on TV?" I ask sarcastically. "You know the _real me. _Yeah, you were part of my guard for all of, what, a day before you kidnapped me? Neither you nor your fearless leaders have any right to judge me on anything, whether you are doing it in a positive way or not. Now, I don't know what he whispered to you before he left, but I can guess that it wasn't good. I'm thinking that it will save us a lot of trouble and _pain_ if you just go to him right now and tell him that I don't. Know. Anything." He flinches when I repeat what his fearless leader had told me earlier, then nods.

"I will, but I doubt he will believe you. To be honest, I don't think I believe you either." He shakes his head in disgust. "Maybe they were right about you all along." Then he leaves, closing the door behind him with a resounding bang.

In retrospect, I probably should have been nice to him. He was my only possible ally, and I just made him think that I'm the stuck up bitch that the world sees on TV, someone who would never help anyone if it hurts her father. Thing is, I honestly don't know where the kryptonite is. I always assumed my father had it all destroyed. The news that he might have just put it in storage somewhere shocks me, and sets that little flame of hope burning once again. Was my father really so stupid that he didn't destroy the one thing that could destroy him?

I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe:_ he was_.

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_Well, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Thanks so much for reading! XO!_


	4. Chapter 4

_I wanted to thank everyone for the reviews and follows! You guys don't know how much it means to me to get positive feedback on my story! Enjoy!_

Time passes. A tray of food is pushed through the flap on the door. I fall asleep for a while. I practice my exercises. And through it all, my mind is spinning. I think of a thousand escape plans, each worse than the last. I ponder where my father could have hidden the kryptonite, and my thoughts fluctuate between belief that he had kept the stuff and belief that he had it all destroyed. I try to figure out where I am, to no avail, and try to figure out who that cruel man is, and who his father is. I do everything and anything to keep my mind off the terror.

What if they torture me? I don't know what I would do if they did, maybe make something up? I have seen far too many movies where the main protagonist is tortured even though he honestly doesn't know what his torturers want him to tell them. If I'm tortured, all I can hope is that they will quickly realize that I had been truthful when I told them that I have no idea where my father could have hidden the kryptonite.

I wrack my brain for any hint of an idea, but I have none. All of the various houses that I have lived in across the world are not good hiding places for something as important as kryptonite, and my father always kept me confined to the houses or to school. I chuckle a little, amused in spite of myself that these people thought I was privy to any of my father's secrets, let alone a secret this big.

The door opens and two men that I have never seen before enter the room. Roughly, they handcuff my hands together, and then unlock my ankle from its chain. They push me out into the hallway, hands wrapped around my forearms, walking quickly and barely slowing when I stumble. They hustle me into a room that is covered in dried rusty red splatters- blood? There's a chair that looks like it came from the dentists office in the center of the room and the floor slants down to a drain in one corner. Next to the chair is a metal table with various surgical tools on top of it.

They force me to sit in the chair, then leave, closing the door behind them with a loud clang. I'm shaking so hard, and my knees feel so weak that I don't think I could stand up, so I don't try. I keep expecting some guy in bloodstained scrubs to come into the room, but no one does. It's like the rebels' favorite pastime is making me wait, first in the cell and now in this torture chamber, assuming that what it is.

I try not to let me guard down, but after hours of just sitting here, my pulse slows and I start to feel calmer. Maybe they're not going to torture me after all. I finally feel strong enough to stand up, so I walk around the room in circles, trying to ignore the bloodstained walls. Eventually I sit back on the chair and fall into a doze.

The clanging sound of the door opening and hitting the wall wakes me up. A man walks in, one that I haven't seen before, and I feel my heart drop. He is huge, bigger even than Sam Jenkins, and he is all muscle. I have a feeling that if I ran into him with all my weight, he wouldn't even flinch. I take in a shuddering breath, willing myself not to cry. He slams the door behind him and walks over to where I'm sitting on the chair.

"Where is the Kryptonite?" He asks menacingly, sticking his face so close to mine that I can smell his rancid breath.

I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a squeak. Well, all of my illusions that I had of myself being calm in the face of danger just flew right out the window. Despite all my attempts to control my facial expressions, I am sure I look like a terrified animal; all huge eyed and pale.

"I-I… don't k-know." I manage to force out. "P-please, I r-really don't know." He looks dissatisfied with my answer, and before I can brace myself, he slams his fist into my stomach, knocking my breath away. I try to clutch my aching stomach, then remember that my hands are still handcuffed behind my back.

"Where. Is. The. Kryptonite?" He repeats. I just shake my head, still too winded to muster an answer. This time he punches me in the face, and I can feel my lip split and start to bleed, dripping onto my rumpled pajamas. I cry out in pain, but he ignores it.

"Where is the Kryptonite?" He repeats yet again. _Is this all he's going to say?_

I gather all of my courage, and glare at him, then spit a wad of bloody saliva right into his eye. I grin smugly at him for all of two seconds before he wipes the smile off my face with another punch.

And it continues this way for what seems like forever, him asking me if I know where the Kryptonite is, and me trying to convey my complete lack of knowledge on the subject. After my one display of courage, all of my bravery leaves me and I turn into a gibbering mess.

Eventually, he stops using his fists and reaches for one of the scalpels on the table next to me. He picks up my hand and moves the knife over my pinky finger, hovering it just above the skin.

"Where is the Kryptonite?" He asks once more, voice lowered to a dangerous whisper. But before I can even begin to answer, I pass out; the terror, pain, and exhaustion finally too much for me to take.

Darkness feels like bliss, and I never want to wake up again.

_Ok, so this chapter got a little dark… I've never written about torture before so I hope it was good __ thanks for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey, everyone! I had sudden inspiration about this chapter last night, so I wrote it really quickly! Yay 2 chapters in 2 days! Enjoy!_

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I gasped and sat up, looking frantically around the room. It takes me a minute to notice that it looks very, very different than it had before. The walls are a spotless white, not a bloodstain to be found. The drain in the floor and the table with surgical instruments have both disappeared. The only thing that is the same was the large dentist's chair I am lying on. Did they move me to a different room while I was sleeping?

I swing my legs over the side of the chair and start to stand up, but stop in surprise. _I'm not in pain. _I bend over at the waist and feel nothing, not even a twinge. My hands are still tied behind my back so I cautiously scrunch my face around to see if anything hurts, and nothing does. Even my split lip is gone.

I'm so busy examining my woundless body that I don't hear people enter the room behind me.

"Ahem." Says a masculine voice from the doorway. It's the blonde man again, the one that is supposedly second- in- command. Behind him is a scrawny, nerdy looking guy who looks vaguely familiar.

"Wh- what happened to me?" I ask shakily. "Was I having some kind of bad dream, or-"

"Oh, it was a bad dream…of sorts." He replies. Something is different about him too. His eyes, while still filled with a burning hatred, are no longer glinting with cruelty. That obnoxious smirk is still there though, I notice with an internal eye roll.

'You see," he continues, "James here can enter peoples mind and give them extremely realistic hallucinations." He gestures to the guy behind him, and I suddenly realize why he looks familiar. He was the torturer! He must have portrayed himself as a huge muscular guy to make me fear him more. "We had to be sure that you don't know where the Kryptonite is hidden, and now we are."

All of a sudden my confusion is gone, replaced with rage.

"So you thought the best way to get information from me was to _torture _me, even if it was all one big hallucination?" I swipe angrily at the tears that have started streaming down my face. "That was… the worst experience of my life, and all you wanted to find out was where some _stupid _meteor rocks are hidden. Did it ever occur to you that you could use a different type of hallucination to get the information you wanted? I can think of a few off the top of my head, lets see. You make me think I was in a dream, make me feel safe enough to reveal any secrets without realizing that I'm actually talking to one of you. Or you could have me think I'm meeting with someone I trusted, and get me to spill my guts that way. Just about anything would have been better than what you put me through."

I'm surprised, and a little satisfied to see that he actually looks kind of guilty. The righteous fire in his eyes has dimmed, and I can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows hard.

"I… never thought of that." He admits, not looking me in the eye.

"Of course you didn't. I don't know who your father is, but I doubt he would be proud of you. I always thought that the rebels were trying to help the world, not make it worse by torturing innocent girls-"

My rant is cut off when he speaks again, righteous anger once again running through his words, all guilt drained from his face.

"Innocent? No, you're not innocent. You have gone along with far too many of your father's laws and taxes, smiling next to him like the happiest person in the world while people starve and die on the streets because of your father. You are just as much to blame as he is for the state the world is in now." He looks at me, lip curling in contempt and disgust, and I die a little on the inside. I don't let him see how much his words affect me, I just stare back at him calmly as is I am not guilty of any crime at all.

"You don't know me." I hiss. "And you definitely don't know my relationship with my father. So save all your righteous anger for someone who actually deserves it." Then I turn my back on him and refuse to say another word. He leaves the room, door slamming behind him. I hear him yell his frustration, and hear a _thunk _as if he has punched a wall. I just lie face down on the chair, and sob.

* * *

Sam Jenkins comes for me later, and tells me that he's taking me to meet the "big boss." As we walk through the hallways, I wonder who this guy could be. Jenkins gets this look of complete trust and respect every time he talks about the man. I mean, he's the leader of the rebellion, he must be a pretty great guy. Although I'm having my doubts after meeting his son.

We walk up to an elevator, and Jenkins presses the up button. We step inside and travel upwards in semi-awkward silence. Just as I'm about to apologize for yelling at him the other day, the door opens with a ding. We step out, and I look around the room we are now standing in. It's a large office, with guards standing at attention on either side of the door. There is a large desk that is similar to the one in my father's office, but it is pushed off to one side to make room for a large table that sits in the center of the room. Men and women stand around this table, looking intend and murmuring in serious tones to one another.

"Oliver, I've brought the girl." Jenkins calls out, causing all of the men and women to stare right at me.

"Yes, thank you Sam." A tall blonde man replies. He is strikingly handsome and muscular, but he is obviously aging. There is gray around his temples, and lines forming on his face. I can see the resemblance between him and his son right away, but this man is much kinder looking than his son. "You must be Samantha." He says, addressing me this time.

"Yes." I reply simply, not sure how to act around this man yet.

"I am Oliver Queen, formerly known as the Green Arrow." I gasp in surprise, and I know I probably look like some schoolgirl meeting her favorite actor. The elevator dings behind me and Oliver Queen's son walks in. "I know you have met my son, Connor Hawke." I nod, still processing this newest revelation.

"I was sorry to hear that you don't know where the Kryptonite is, but we are not too worried. We have a plan to find out where it is, and you are an integral part of that plan. I know this is probably not what you expected, but whether you want to or not, you are going to help us."

"Welcome to the rebellion."

* * *

_Hey guys! You didn't think I was going to actually have Samantha tortured did you? __ don't forget to review! XO!_


	6. Chapter 6

I stand, shaking, in Oliver Queen's office, trying to understand. Did he just say what I think he did? I have wanted to join the rebellion for basically my whole life, and it seems my wish has just been granted. The only problem is that, so far, these rebels have not been anything like the heroic, good people that I thought they would be. _Or at least Connor Hawke isn't. _

"We are going to send you back home, back to the White House with your father. I'm sure that will please you." Connor grimaced angrily at his father's words. My eyes grow wide and I feel the blood drain from my face.

"You're doing what?" I ask incredulously.

"We're sending you back, we need you to find out where the Kryptonite is and the only way you can find it is if you have access to your father's files. We have intelligence that suggests that the location is hidden in one of the files on his computer. We need you to find it."

"I just- can't you find a different way for me to help you guys? Something that doesn't involve me going home?"

"You don't want to go home?" Queen asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"No. I don't like my father any more than you do." I reply. "All you guys, you all see what you want to. No one wants to believe that I honestly want to help the rebellion."

"I… I guess it never crossed my mind."

"Dad! Are you actually falling for her tricks?" Connor asked angrily. "She's just acting, there's no way she believes a word that is coming out of her own mouth. If she really wanted to help us she would have done something by now."

My fists clench in frustration and anger. He is one of the most infuriating people I have ever met, right after my father. I don't understand why he refuses to believe me. I mean, if he thinks I'm such a great actor, why can't he believe that I was acting every time I pretended to love my father for the TV cameras?

"Like what?" I shoot back at him.

"I don't know, just… something!" He yells, getting red in the face. His father just shakes his head.

"Connor, she says she wants to help, and I choose to believe her. You two will be working closely together, so you need to learn how to at least tolerate each other." He turns back to me.

"Samantha, I understand why you would wish to stay as far away from your father as possible, trust me, we all understand. But this is one of the most important missions anyone in the rebellion has ever or will ever attempt. If we can get our hands on kryptonite, we will be able to stop your father for good."

I find myself nodding, and suddenly feel a rush of pride for being chosen for the mission. Then I remember, I wasn't chosen, they just knew that I would have better access to my father's files than just about anyone else. No wonder the rebels want Queen as their leader, he has a way of inspiring you and making you feel that you are important.

"Wait." I say, suddenly realizing something. "You said something about Connor and me working closely together? What did you mean by that?"

"Ah, yes. He is going to come with you and pose as Sam's replacement. I have contacts that will allow him to become your bodyguard without your father even noticing."

Suddenly I am far less excited to go on this mission. Working with Connor- having him follow me around wherever I go- is going to be a nightmare. Not to mention the fact that I wouldn't trust him to actually guard me if the need arises.

I open my mouth to protest, but decide against it. I doubt anything I say will change their minds.

"You understand that Connor will be guarding you in other ways as well as in the traditional sense." Queen continues. "I want to believe that you truly want to help our cause, and I will unless you give me reason not to. But we cannot afford to be double crossed, not with so much at stake. So Connor is going to watch you and make sure you don't tip your father off about what we are doing."

I sigh; so much for his trust in me. Man, I am not excited to go home.

* * *

They decide that the least suspicious way to send me home is to ransom me publicly, by sending a video to sources in various TV stations telling my father that if he doesn't give up 100 grand, they will kill me. This ensures that when I come back home, my father will believe that I have actually been kidnapped. The rebels don't realize this, but the publicity the ransom video got will also force my father to pay the ransom. I know that if they send him a private message, he would just leave me to rot. I have no doubt that the video was the first the public heard about my kidnapping. As an added bonus, the rebels get 100 grand, which will help them fund any future missions.

They send Connor ahead a day early, so that he will be set up as one of my bodyguards before I am returned to my father. The rebels think that he will be under less suspicion if he is there when the ransom is paid and I am switched for the money.

They give my father the location of the switch, and then leak it to the press. Hopefully the press will keep my father busy long enough for the rebels to get away after dropping me off.

* * *

I step out of the nondescript van and camera flashes immediately start going off. At least the press has enough tact (or maybe just fear of my father) to refrain from asking questions. I mean, asking a girl who was just kidnapped about her experiences wouldn't be very sensitive. Unfortunately, I'm still wearing my pajamas; Queen wouldn't let me change into some clothes I had packed in my emergency bag because he thought it would look suspicious. At least I'm not wearing my fuzzy hot pink pajamas with little bunnies all over it; now that would be embarrassing.

I look up and see my father and my cadre of bodyguards, including Connor. Years of acting take over, and I paste a huge smile on my face. I run towards him and give him a huge hug, tears leaking out of my eyes. The cameras go crazy, capturing the reunion. I have to admit, for a second, hugging my father and having him hug me back feels so good. I feel safe and loved, but the bubble bursts when I remember that with my father, safe and loved are two things that I will never be.

I see Connor out of the corner of my eye, he is trying his hardest not to look furious, but I can tell that he is. I can't really blame him; after all, I just ran happily into the arms of the man he considers his worst enemy.

We get in the car and head back to the White House and it feels like I'm escaping from one prison just to walk right into another one.

* * *

_Hey everyone, sorry it's been so long since I last updated! I've been busy with various things, but I finally got time to write! Hope you enjoyed this chapter __ feel free to review!_

_XO!_


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